


duo in the rain

by bcvcrly



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/F, Fluff without Plot, i had to write abt my fav gals, kisses galore!!, literally like 2 ppl r going to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcvcrly/pseuds/bcvcrly
Summary: cynisca had never liked the rain.





	duo in the rain

**Author's Note:**

> hi i started writing this as a joke but got too invested
> 
> ^^^kinda like something else ,, if u know my writing

Ever since Cynisca was a little girl, she’d hated the rain. It was cold. Hard. Unforgiving. She usually worked inside anyway, writing and planning and practicing— she was a lawyer, after all, and a damn good one at that— so when the downpour started now, she only rolled her eyes and snapped the blinds shut.

She was looking through her client’s information again when she heard a door close and laughter down the hall. She set down her materials, let her heart bubble over. _Cleopatra_.

Cleo was soaking wet and laughing, shaking rain out of her hair and sleeves. She reached out her arms for a hug, but Cynisca shook her head firmly. “Not when you’re drenched like that,” she said. “Why were you out there?”

Her eyes were sparkling mischievously. “It’s _fun_ ,” she said. “You should go out there with me.”

And then she leaned in for a kiss, and Cynisca couldn’t help herself. She threaded her fingers in Cleo’s icy, wet hair, brushed droplets from her cheekbone, pulled the girl close into the warmth of her body.

She could never tire of loving Cleopatra. The girl brought love and light with her wherever she went and even now, her hair wild and wet and hanging in dark tangles at her jaw, she was the most beautiful thing Cynisca had ever seen.

“You’re doing it again,” Cleo murmured. “The heart eyes. Come _here_.”

Cynisca didn’t think she’d ever been this happy before they’d met. She’d always had her cat, she supposed, and her career, but neither of those things left her so weak and fluttery like  _this_.

She leaned into Cleo and the girl grabbed her arm, laughing, and swung open the door. “Hey!” Cynisca protested. At least, that’s what she was about to say, before Cleo’s hands closed around hers softly.

“Trust me,” she said.

So Cynisca put on her boots and raincoat and let Cleo lead her outside, where everything was a dark silver. Lightning struck in the distance.

Cleo pulled Cynisca’s hood down until her face was visible again, and instantly she felt the press of water all around her, sliding down her face and neck. She closed her eyes, momentarily irate with the rush of rain, the roar of it all around them, but then she felt something else. Warm. Her eyes fluttered open and Cleo was kissing her again.

“It’s beautiful,” Cleo whispered to her, barely audibly. “You’re beautiful.” And she was murmuring more to Cynisca, other things, but all she knew was the soft glide of cold water on her cheeks and the gentle touch of lips on her skin.

And when she looked around her, she saw the world differently, like the rain had washed away the darkness and replaced it with something full and passionate. The lightning struck again but this time Cynisca could only think of gods of thunder and lightning who ruled the skies. And the rain-- she looked down at the way the water clung to Cleo’s eyelashes like tears-- soft and fragile on its own, but capable of incredible power like this, a reminder of the colossal noise that a thousand voices make together when they whisper.

She had no doubt they looked like fools then, laughing and clutching each other for warmth. But she didn’t care and she’d never cared about how the others would perceive them. They ran back into the house, splashing everywhere, careless and happy.

“See?” Cleo said, gasping for air even as she tugged the strings of Cynisca’s jacket until they were nose to nose. “It wasn’t that bad.”

And she was right, Cynisca supposed. She was always right. Always pulling her out of her comfort zone and into something better.

They kicked off their boots, collapsed onto the couch in a contented, sleepy silence. Cynisca traced the shape of Cleo’s eyebrows and lips and listened to the battering of rain against the windows.

Pulling her into something _so_ much better.

 


End file.
